


Backrooms Log - Day ???

by pixelatedeyes



Category: Backrooms - Fandom, Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: So yeah, based on the backrooms picture, i just wanna post it somewhere because it didn't get any appreciation on reddit, like idk just read it it's pretty cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixelatedeyes/pseuds/pixelatedeyes
Summary: My eyes opened to peeling yellow wallpaper, stained carpet, and the remnants of the last song I listened to still circling around my brain in a daze.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	Backrooms Log - Day ???

My eyes opened to peeling yellow wallpaper, stained carpet, and the remnants of the last song I listened to still circling around my brain in a daze.

The first thing I remembered thinking was: “I can feel myself fading already”. As if I stood here for too long, I would soon become a part of the beige patterned walls.

I had to keep moving.

My legs felt filled with lead – my brain also. One question rolled around my empty mind: how did I get here?

I should never have listened to them.

I came across the picture while I was in one of my depressive episodes, under a mountain of blankets, my brain sluggish and my fingers mindlessly tapping at the screen of my phone. Pages of liminal spaces filled the glowing rectangle, and I scrolled – then one picture caught my eye.

The Backrooms.

Yellow peeling wallpaper. The insanity inducing buzz of the fluorescent lights. And lastly, the thing that sent shivers down my spine – the possibility of there being more entities, trapped here in this maddening, randomly generated landscape of lunacy.

Soon, my eyes grew tired from staring at the screen, and I decided to wrench myself out of bed, and as I got up, I fell through my bed.

And just like that, I woke up here.

_There’s my favourite perfume!_ _  
We’ve been looking for, everywhere_

I have been wandering these rooms for days, and I haven’t met anyone yet. Part of me is relieved, and yet – there’s the nagging fear that I may not like what I find if I do meet someone. The only thing that keeps me sane is writing in the journal on my phone. I haven’t been able to get onto social media yet, so it is up to myself to find an exit.

I’m not sure how much longer I can bear this. The frail locket on my chest is weighing me down, the cheap metal already turning green. My pyjamas are as stiff as cardboard, and my eyes can barely stay open. But I must keep going.

Time does not exist here. I wonder if this is my damnation, if all those years I spent back at home, lying in bed, and scrolling through Pinterest have led me here, living in my worst nightmare. _This is what you have been doing all your life!_ The walls seem to scream. All I have been doing is walking through randomly generated beige walls, a grey film over my eyes.

_Why don’t you buy one for me, too?_ _  
And I’ll meet you at the door_

This fucking song. My writing is spidery, the blood from my never-healing cuts staining the pages on which I write. I lost my phone in an attack from a shadowy creature. I can barely write, my hands are shaking so much.

This creature… this hellish, dark, unfathomable creature… it had my mother’s face.

I remember crying, the insanity of the situation finally taking over my brain, the song playing over and over and over in my head. Clouds descended over my eyes. I ran towards her, sobbing, and then she transformed into shadows and left me bleeding on the floor, yellow wallpaper engulfing my mind.

The picture in my locket changes every time I look at it. This time, it held the face of my mother, her beautiful, young body slinging her arm around my neck. My face was obscured, a hellish shadow in the place of it.

I smashed it on the ground, and never looked at it again.

I can’t do this anymore.

The wallpaper. The colours. The dreams. The buzz of the fluorescent lights.

I’m going to kill myself tonight. No more emptiness. No more wandering through stuffy rooms. No more lying in a pool of blood, drenched with the blood that your own mother drew.

There’s a shadow creature near me. I can hear the scratching in the dark alleyway next to me.

It’s time. I’ll do it tonight. There will be no one to tell my story. No one will find the depressed girl, blood-stained sheets moistening the beige carpet beneath her.

I smash my head against a wall. Once, twice, thrice. The pain is blinding, but I fight through it. I tell myself that this is the only way time will ever exist in this universe. Time – what is it? Time is the count of times my cracked head hits the peeling wallpaper. Time is the sound of the smashing of brains against the crumbling walls. Time is the countdown until the last breath.

Finally. _Finally_ , I take the breath. I can feel it, racking my lungs, pulling me down, and slowly, finally, the darkness consumes me.

_Okay!_ _  
Okay. Bye bye!  
Bye bye  
Bye bye!_

When my eyes open, there is only peeling yellow wallpaper, stained carpet, and the remnants of the last song I listened to still circling around my beaten, bloodied brain.


End file.
